


A less arbitrary social fabric

by qwanderer



Series: Measured Words [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has been trying to optimize his own usefulness for a long time now. He's not used to thinking about other people in the same terms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A less arbitrary social fabric

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from this quote by Margaret Mead:
> 
> "If we are to achieve a richer culture, rich in contrasting values, we must recognize the whole gamut of human potentialities, and so weave a less arbitrary social fabric, one in which each diverse human gift will find a fitting place."
> 
> Which maybe doesn't have that much to do with the story, but I like it.

Bruce learns the language of the keyboards in Tony's private workshop, the ones with numbers and letters and dials and symbols, runes to greek to Mayan, all shortcutting to words or concepts or equations that he uses regularly. He incorporates them into intra-lab text messages and documents, even into his own work; they're the ultimate tool for experimental shorthand. The language allows him to work faster, more efficiently, and it's such an insight into the minds of both Tony and Jarvis. 

Because Jarvis definitely has a mind of his own, that's become clear to Bruce. 

Jarvis learns when to put on music with a beat, when to pipe through the sound of rain or ocean waves, when to keep silent, all just from little signs that Bruce isn't aware of. Jarvis learns the places and times it's all right to interrupt and where and when Bruce just needs the illusion that he's alone. 

He's a comforting presence, and Bruce can see the evidence piling up that the AI does, in fact, live to serve, and is happy whenever Bruce asks him for something, anything. J is a kindred spirit as well, built, at his core, in Tony's image, with the same inatiable hunger for knowledge, and they, all three of them, study each other and delve into each other's workings. 

The welcome here is unlike anything Bruce has experienced. 

The way Tony just opens up to him and lets the words roll out without expecting anything in return, it's good for Bruce. And Bruce can hear him switching gears, can hear him in everything from his slowest, most stilted apologies and requests for help up to things that come out in the thickest jargon he's ever heard, great leaps in logic and whole concepts and methodologies flying past. 

Tony speaks about Tennessee a lot, processing things, things he knows Bruce didn't catch the first time. It is an interesting story, but Tony had caught him at the end of a long day of research the first time. 

"I had to talk to _people._ Jarvis was down and I didn't have my tech and it was _awful_. J, don't ever leave me again, mmkay?" 

"I shall endeavor not to, Sir," says the AI. 

"The Harley kid wasn't bad, though. Pretty smart, except when he was being monumentally obtuse. So, better than average, definitely." 

Bruce loves to hear him talk about Harley. Loves kids, really, in his life, however he can get that without putting them in danger. 

But he doesn't reach for anything, and that confuses Tony. 

Tony still pushes Bruce, on and off, trying to get him to be more expressive, to stand up for himself. 

"Wish you'd let loose, Big Guy. You know it's OK, right? I won't judge. Appreciate you at your biggest and greenest." 

"I know," says Bruce. He does know. He thinks Tony's a reckless fool for it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't understand, and that doesn't mean he's not grateful. 

"Seriously, ask for it and it's yours. Want a team of lab assistants? Your own jet? A custom Starkbot who brings you tea every hour?" 

Bruce just looks uncomfortable. 

"C'm'on, tell me. There's gotta be something your big green bottled-up heart desires." 

Bruce sighs tightly. "You want to know what I need right now? A little space, please!" It isn't loud at all, but it's still forceful, and he turns his back on Tony. 

Tony curses inwardly, and he leaves the room, top speed and almost soundless. Harley's litany of annoying, jarring, but oh-so-earnest questions comes back to him. 

"Jarvis, buddy, you gotta help me with this, explain this to me." Tony sighs. "I fucked up." 

"I will do what I can, Sir," says Jarvis, and brings up the social modeling program. That's expected. What isn't expected is that there's more than one model displayed in the glowing lines. 

Tony has modeled his own algorithms before, asked Jarvis to check his math, help him tweak it. The good he can do for the world always takes priority, although Jarvis is always pushing him to care more for himself and less for his work or public image. Afghanistan gave Jarvis a lot of the leverage he uses there, pointing out that Tony needs to be sharp and aware to be sure that the things he makes are being used properly, for the good of humanity and not to its detriment. 

So Tony lets his mouth run, tries not to care what anyone thinks of him, because that is an exhausting game he has played before, and the advantages of raising that quotient in general are far outweighed by the efficiency he gains in all other areas by mostly just not caring. 

He can't afford a spotless reputation if he's going to meet his potential in the realm of doing actual good. He needs his focus. 

So when Jarvis pulls up the initial model he's made for Bruce's algorithms, Tony tilts his head to the side, looking at the utterly alien shape of the thing. 

Bruce has not much put toward reputation, either. He's maximized for good productive output, as well, Tony can see that, at least. But the way he goes about it? 

There's a consistent trend of avoidance towards situations that (according to his monitored pulse) make him uncomfortable. It takes a lot less energy for Bruce to say something placating and excuse himself politely than it would to endure the reactions to what he's really thinking. He doesn't care whether they're angry or worried or scared, he just doesn't want to be around to catch the backlash of it. 

_I'm exposed. Like a nerve. It's a nightmare._

That... hadn't just been about Hulk, had it? Because when you start messing with the amygdala.... 

Tony hisses an inhale, putting a hand over the lower half of his face. 

"Yep," he says. "I fucked up." 

* * *

Bruce doesn't see Tony for about three days, after that. 

He eventually comes to the conclusion that he's not going to, unless he actively seeks the engineer out. That's sweet, but unnecessary. When Bruce asks where Tony is, Jarvis makes a point of telling him he's welcome in the workshop, both now and as a general rule. 

"Thanks, J," says Bruce. "Has he eaten?" 

"He might be convinced to break for lunch," is Jarvis's answer, so Bruce makes sandwiches and brings them along. 

Tony raises his eyebrows at the offering, when he catches sight of Bruce. "Did J tell you you're welcome? Because I'm not sure the wording was strong enough. Sandwiches get you bonus points." 

Bruce just smiles, and hands over one of the plates before sitting down on the other side of the bench Tony is sitting at. 

Tony digs into his sandwich, and when he's gotten through the first few bites (his abstract focus always dulls his physical needs until they're brought to his attention), he looks at Bruce with a bit of a pained smile. 

"So, I went kinda overboard, and I'm sorry," he says. 

"Forget about it," Bruce says, shaking his head. "Maybe you're right," he admits. "Maybe I could stand to let things out a little more." 

Tony shakes his head. "And maybe I'm wrong. Jarvis is helping me run the numbers? Your social algorithms are all skewed, like, 90 degrees from mine. You're running a totally different OS. How do we even get along?" 

_You do like me, right?_ sort of floats in the air unsaid, waiting for Bruce to catch it. 

"I think it's why we do," Bruce answers, smiling small and knowing. "We're like Kevlar warp and weft. We're bulletproof together." 

Tony chuckles, and his eyes are suspiciously shiny. "Damn right," he says. 

They finish their sandwiches in companionable silence, sliding ideas back and forth across the holographic interface with their free hands. 

The numbers are clear. It's not even a question. 

Together, they can do so much more good.


End file.
